The Egyptian by Mika Waltari

Posted by admin_akashic on Mar 4th, 2022 in Stories

The following day, princess Beketamun went to the charcoal market and rejoiced that day with the men of the charcoal market, so by sunset the reed swamps by the Nile were sooty and trampled, and the priests of many small temples complained bitterly — for the charcoal sellers were godless men who didn’t shy away from tearing stones from temple walls to pay for their pleasure, but licked their lips and boasted amongst themselves, saying, “Truly we have tasted a heavenly treat, and her lips melted in our mouths, and her breasts were like glowing brands in our hands, and we did not know that such delight existed in the world.”

But when it became known in Thebes that the goddess had appeared to the people for the third time, Thebes was filled with great unrest, and even respectable men left their wives and went to wine taverns — and at night they took stones from Pharaoh’s buildings so that next morning every man in Thebes went from market to market with a stone under his arm, impatiently awaiting the appearance of the cat-headed one. But the priests were perturbed and sent forth their guards to arrest the woman who was the source of such turmoil and nonsense.

That day, princess Beketamun didn’t go to Thebes but rested in the golden house after her exertions, smiling at all who addressed her and behaving in a notably agreeable manner, stretching her body modestly when she spoke and raising the hand over her mouth to hide her yawning. The court were much astonished at her demeanour, yet no one guessed that she was the mysterious woman who had appeared to the people of Thebes and taken pleasure with charcoal burners and fish gutters.

But princess Beketamun, having surveyed the stones of varying size and colour that she had collected, summoned into her garden the master builder of Pharaoh’s cattle stables and conversed with him amiably and said to him, “I have gathered these stones by the riverbank, and they are sacred stones to me, and each one is linked with a joyous memory, the more joyous, the bigger the stone. Build me a pavilion from these stones that I may have a roof over my head, for my consort neglects me and drives me out of my rooms, as you well know and have doubtless heard. Let this pavilion be spacious and its walls high, and start building it at once, and I will assuredly collect more stones as you need them, and you shall not need to worry that you will run out of stones.”

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The master builder was a simple man, and his loincloth was grey from the dust of cut stones, and his shoulders were battered from carrying the stones, and he was not used to talking to distinguished people. Therefore, before princess Beketamun, he dug the ground with his toe and lowered his eyes and said humbly, “Your highness princess Beketamun, I fear that my arts may not suffice to build a pavilion worthy of your rank, and these stones are of different sizes and colours so that the fitting of them together will be a matter of great difficulty and requires excellent artistic sense. Lay this task rather on some eminent temple builder or artist, for I fear that my lack of skill may spoil the beauty of your thought so that all the stones you have collected will go to waste.”

But princess Beketamun touched his bony shoulder shyly and said, “Oh, you who carry the stones to cattle stables, I am but a poor woman, and my husband neglects me, and I cannot afford to call eminent master builders to my service. Nor can I offer you a worthy present for the work, as I should wish to do, but when the pavilion is completed, I will inspect it with you, and if I find it well done, I will take pleasure with you there, this I promise. I have nothing else to give you, but I can surely give you a little joy, as I am not that old and ugly yet, and may that be your reward. I also believe that you will bring great joy to me, for you are a strong man and your arms are powerful, and I am a little woman and long for pleasure, since my husband doesn’t bring any pleasure to me, as you surely well know.”

The master builder of cattle stables was greatly inflamed by her words and by her touch and he surveyed her beauty, remembering all the fairy tales in which princesses fell in love with simple men and took pleasure with them. His fear of Horemheb was great, but his desire was greater than his fear, and the words of Beketamun flattered him exceedingly. Therefore he began swiftly to build the pavilion to the garden of the golden house from the stones Beketamun had gathered, and he exercised all his skills in the work, dreaming with his eyes open as he built and building his dream from the stones into the walls of the

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